REVIEW: A Band Called Death

Courtesy of Drafthouse Films

Ecstatic praise is both important and tricky for a film. Positive reviews and word of mouth from early viewers are vital for small, non-mainstream movies, particularly if they lack famous faces to put on a poster. That acclaim is often the only reason they get seen at all. However, if the buzz grows too rapturous, it can overshadow the film itself, essentially guaranteeing it will fail to live up to all the hype.

For example, I remember when the American Film Institute named Citizen Kane the greatest movie of all time a few years back. It’s unquestionably excellent, but that prestigious designation brings with it the immense weight of unreasonable expectations. Inevitably, the announcement led to scores of people watching the Orson Welles classic for the first time and failing to see what all the fuss was about.

That brings me to A Band Called Death, a documentary currently streaming on Netflix (and also available on DVD, iTunes, etc.) – I’d heard nothing but glowing recommendations for months, so I decided to wait a bit before checking it out. I figured watching it in the midst of all that love could only lead to disappointment. But the chatter never died down. In fact, it only grew louder on Facebook, Twitter and the various pop culture websites I frequent.

So I finally caved, adjusting my expectations as the movie began. I prepared to ignore any feelings of disappointment that popped up if it turned out to be simply fine instead of phenomenal. (What’s the old saying? Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good?) Then something remarkable happened: as the story unfolded, chronicled by the delightful and magnetic Hackney brothers, it completely lived up to the hype.

A Band Called Death both informs and entertains. In the span of 96 minutes, I went from knowing almost nothing about the musicians with the seemingly-ominous moniker to being engrossed in their astounding tale. It’s full of love, laughter, heartbreak and, ultimately, recognition. The decades-long saga plays out like a rock ’n roll fairy tale, but it really happened.

I realize a bit of synopsis is necessary for those who are just hearing about the band for the first time. However, if you trust my judgment, just stop reading at the end of this paragraph and watch the movie; going in cold is an incredible experience. There are narrative surprises that pack a more powerful punch when you don’t see them coming.

For the more skeptical among you, here are the basics: in the early ’70s, brothers David, Bobby and Dannis Hackney formed a band in their spare bedroom, practicing every day and drawing attention from the neighbors because of their loud, unusual sound. This was Detroit in the era of Motown, so not many black teenagers were citing The Who and Alice Cooper as musical influences.

They were basically punk before anyone had heard of the Sex Pistols or the Ramones. David, who became obsessed with spirituality after their beloved father was killed in a car accident, came up with an equally jarring name to match their sound: Death. He chose it not because of morbid connotations, but because he believed dying is just a natural part of life. He wanted to communicate that viewing death in a positive light eliminates fear and negativity. It went over about as well as you’d expect.

Death played a few local gigs and pressed a single in hopes of getting radio and label attention. Unfortunately, record companies considered the band’s name and music a hard sell. Although they recorded a few masters, Death finally got so frustrated with trying to explain their concept that they disbanded.

Almost three decades later, the Hackneys lead much different lives. Bobby and Dannis play in a reggae band while holding down full-time jobs, but David never quite got over the failure of Death. However, that single they made all those years ago didn’t disappear. In fact, record collectors and music aficionados are starting to listen – and they can’t believe what they’re hearing.

A Band Called Death is an extraordinary tale that spans generations, told in a creative fashion because directors Mark Covino and Jeff Howlett had almost no archival footage to communicate the early days of the band. Instead, they rely on visually appealing manipulation of still photos and – most importantly – the natural charm of the Hackneys as they recall their teenage years. I dare you to hear their boisterous, genial laughter and not grin so big it feels like your head is going to crack open.

The story isn’t an entirely happy one, however, and there are portions of the Hackneys’ account – whether through editing or selective memory – that seem to gloss over some of the more troubling elements of their lives. That’s particularly true when it comes to David, who Bobby and Dannis understandably revere. But once the film pivots to Death’s influence on Bobby’s sons, the narrative picks up steam again and allows the film to finish strong.

Even viewers with absolutely no interest in Death’s musical style (I couldn’t name more than five punk bands if you held a gun to my head) will find plenty to love about the film. I laughed, I cried, I cheered, and any other clichéd reaction you can think of. The story is so incredible, and the Hackneys’ joy so infectious, that you’d have to be dead inside not to love it. A Band Called Death is one of my favorite movies of the year.

A Band Called Death is not rated, but it’s the equivalent of PG-13.

Grade: A-